Loyalties Lie
by Lemontea-addict
Summary: Coming here was my new beginning. Meeting him was my end. I spent my entire life searching for a belonging. I fear I may spend an eternity more to reaching to it. AU [2.0 version of Halfway There]
1. You only live once

_"Twenty-nine different attributes,_

_Only seven that you like, oh_

_Twenty ways to see the world, oh_

_Twenty ways to start a fight, oh" _

_-The Strokes_

* * *

When I was young, I remembered wishing to meet someone like how they did the movies. You know, that instant love at first sight type of bullshit.

Of course, pre-teen years teach us to know better, to think more logically, to be more realistic about meeting people. At some point, everyone has had the carpet come out from under them. We learn at some point that, the things we see in movies are just fiction.

Just fiction. It's not real. No such thing.

But this man, this man who dares to look directly at me, to smirk at me, to pique my curiosity, has got me all out of sorts.

Is there such thing as an instant connection between two people? Is that really real?

I don't know if up is down, or if out is in. I've lost any capability of rational thought. All I am doing is feeling. All I can do is feel. And I'm feeling intense. He makes me tense, he makes me wary of him; but also very aware?

I've never been someone who could read people easily, and I won't pretend that I do. But this man makes me wish I knew what was going through his head right now. I want know if he's feeling whatever the hell I am feeling right now. I want to know if I am affecting him the way he so obviously affects me.

I want to know, but I don't want to know.

He is like forbidden fruit. He is the apple, and he makes me tempted to take a bite. But I know I shouldn't.

I don't believe in love. Whatever is going on between me and this strange man, is something else. But its not love.

How could I have known that he would be my end? How could I have known that he would be the cause of my soul to be damned?

I said that I would go to the ends of the earth searching for contentment. I just didn't think that spending an eternity was a way to get to it.

How screwed am I?

* * *

**Re-vamped version of Halfway there. In no way do i own The Lost Boys.**


	2. Mama said, mama said

_"Mama, life had just begun_

_But now I've gone and thrown it all away_

_Mama, ooh didn't mean to make you cry,_

_If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,_

_Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters."_

_'Bohemian Rhapsody' -Queen_

* * *

**Mama said, mama said**

Childhood— was raised in back of cars that my mother could attain. It was always just her and I. My childhood consisted of wandering. I've been on more back roads, highways, freeways, and scenic routes to destinations than the actual destination.

I have no father to speak of, but my mother always had numerous boyfriends over the years. She had always been tight lipped about the mention of 'Dad' whenever I asked. So I stopped asking.

Our lifestyle consisted of never staying in the same place for too long. In a fit, moving to another town, to another motel, to enroll in another school, I questioned her sudden impulse to pick up and leave. She told me, _"Juni, people like us must go where the wind takes us. We were made for more, much, much more."_

I never understood her then. I was still throwing a tantrum because I always had to uproot and take off before I could settle.

Friends were not a luxury I could have. I could never stay long enough for them to remember me. So they were nonexistent. Acquaintances I've had, but even they don't remember much of me after awhile. Sometimes, when I felt a need for a little companionship, I attempted to make bonds with girls my age—An attempt i stopped making after the other moms from the schools I've briefly attended would tell their daughters, that mine was a wandering gypsy. That her whoring ways have led me to a bastard life. My mother just laughed like it was the best joke she had ever heard.

She would say, "_Baby, those harlots don't know adventure if it hit'em in the face. Pay no mind to ignorant housewives, they'd never make it out alive if they ever stepped foot out of town."_

It didn't matter anyway. I never stayed long enough for it to effect me and I never saw those women or their daughters again.

I think the longest we've ever been stationary was New Orleans for three years. My mother said that she loved the locals and the atmosphere.

She would turn to me, grinning like a fool and say, _"Magic is in the air baby, can't you feel it? Its very potent here."_

My mother had always been free spirited, very vocal about human rights (just very opinionated), and a bit of a feminist. She always said, _'The man likes to keep us tied down, which is why we don't keep them for long. They're only good for one thing.'_ —though, she never did tell me what that one good thing was. Bill, Joe, and Ned probably knew. She always spoke of the weirdest things. But I was no wiser than she was, and it made sense to us even if other people all thought we were a touch of crazy.

Rosie May was a looker. Although, maybe I'm just a bit bias when I say this. Her dark brown locks that cascaded past her shoulders complimented her fair complexion. But it was her eyes of Jade that made her seem to stand out in a crowd. She was the bees knees. All her boyfriends said so anyway.

Growing up, she made sure I was raised to be independent. As a child, I was taught to do things on my own, left to figure things out with no guidance; to use every resource at my disposal. Every complaint I tried to justify when it got hard, was a lesson to be learned, to be grateful, to change, to be humble. I was not berated when I made mistakes, but I was not rewarded when I exceeded her expectations either. Every lesson was a constant problem solving scenario she forced me into. She wasn't the perfect parent, but her quirky lessons helped mold me into the woman I've become. I was led to believe that her peculiar parenting was her way of getting me ready for those much bigger things she mentioned once. But I'll never know.

I traveled around the east coast after high school graduation, working odd jobs that didn't require a college degree, easy enough to get hired, and learn the ropes of the job. I've dabbled in a lot of customer service, I've stocked, and even did some custodial work. It was anything that I could do that would get me by.

Like my mother, I never over stay my welcome—a lesson I learned the hard way. Bad things happen when I resist the pull.

_"Juni, don't fight things that are out of your control. You're only prolonging the inevitable." _

That gut feeling would kick in full force and it's been pulling me since I was abandoned to fend for myself. I may have picked up her wandering ways, but this time was more than a whim to wander. No, it was a feeling; a gut feeling more than it was an impulse. I have made my way from east coast to Midwest, to the west coast.

Final stop, Santa Carla, California.

* * *

**I own nothing of The Lost Boys.**


	3. The show must go on

_Empty Spaces_

_What are we living for?_

_Abandoned places_

_I guess I know the score_

_On and on_

_Does anybody know what we're looking for?_

_'Show must go on' -Queen_

* * *

**Something is coming**

"This is a place of business, I don't need you assholes preying inside here."

"Who's praying? I ain't on my knees, you Marko?" Paul shoves him, and they go at it back and forth.

Marko laughs, flipping him off. "I only get on my knees when I hit from behind,"

"Screw off you two! And you," She points a finger at David with much contempt. "Put out that fucking cigarette or I will light you on fire."

David gives her a casual stare, toking one more before he puts it out on the counter. Dwayne holds her back from climbing over and wringing David's neck.

"Chill out Eleanor, we're just checking shit out." Marko tells her.

She glares at him. "What you do outside of this establishment is your prerogative, but don't play your damn games in here. This is a sanctuary, I won't tell you again."

David levels her with a calculated stare. "You seem apprehensive today Eleanor," He mockingly waves his hand. "Anything you want to share with the class?"

She clenches her fists to keep herself from blowing up. Dwayne rubs his thumb over her knuckles in an attempt to calm her.

She wants to tell David to fuck off. But nothing phases him these days. And she's known them since the eighties. It's been decades since then—quiet decades, but only now the boys have gained back their full potential. Eleanor has been the gate keeper by day since she can. They have kept themselves under the radar and re-adjusting to the changing times. Being out of commission whilst they recuperate was a survival necessity. During their deep sleep, far beneath the dirt, Eleanor and her dogs would keep intruders at bay.

The Frog brothers were somewhat out of commission, last she heard—Trouble with newborns were a handful to deal with, but it also gave opportunity to keep attention off the boardwalk. Eleanor would say, since the Emerson incident, the boys have learned to tread carefully these days. Mischief is still their specialty, but they've come a long way about wising up with their lifestyle. They couldn't slum it forever. Eventually they had to take a page out of Max's book and create an image.

David has taken the reigns and he did it well. He created opportunities that allowed his coven to thrive. But they are not without its tribulations. Still, David took care of his family—more than she could say about Max's time.

Lately however, the air has become heavier; amplified with energy. Even her dogs have become restless. These signs were neither good or bad. Eleanor just never knew what to expect when those signs start to develop. She could feel the atmosphere crackle and pop, and it was agitating her senses.

David knew something was amiss. They all probably did. She just made it more obvious to him. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of giving him an answer. At least, not until she knew what was going on.

"Hey," Dwayne has her chin between his fingers, looking slightly worried. "What's going on?"

If anyone knew how to read her telltale expressions so well, it was him. She could only express so much without a verbal confirmation. She wasn't ready to tell them anything. Not yet. Not until she can figure out if this was a threat or nothing at all.

_Something was coming_, she wanted to say.

But she schooled her expression and just shook her head. "It's nothing..."

For now.

* * *

**I own nothing that is The Lost Boys.**

_So just to clarify, this is an Alternate Universe. I've revamped my old story 'Halfway There'. I already have a few chapters pre-written, but we'll see how it goes. Its a work in progress, it will take me awhile to get to their meet and greet. I wanted to build up to it just to make it bit more interesting. Maybe near hits and miss? Who knows? But here is a sneak peek intro to our famous lost boys. Sorry its so short. _


	4. Simple Past Times

_Come as you are, as you were_

_As I want you to be_

_As a friend, as a friend,_

_As a known enemy_

_'Come as you are' -Nirvana_

* * *

**Simple past times **

The smell of the sea is nothing described as they say. For one, it stinks. The breeze was stale, it stunk like dirty water had been trapped in a tank for years.

My junk on wheels had no air conditioning to speak of, so I was left to feel the smelly breeze of the ocean on my drive reaching to the coast of California. Despite this, the drive was relaxing.

The Santa Carla boardwalk was coming into the distance after passing the sign. The closer I got to civilization, the bustling sound of locals and tourists swarming on the sidewalks and crosswalks were heard.

This place was alive.

I've been to small fairs or flea markets before, each one just as alluring as the next. But it was nothing compared to this. There were small stands, rides, games, and food trucks—it was a place to get away. Like Pleasure Island in Pinocchio or Neverland in Peter Pan. The boardwalk was like a modern version of Ogygia, it lured people by bright colors and popular attractions to appease every age group that made people never want to leave. But more than that, I felt the magic in the air. I can't explain it, there are places in the world that held a special aura in the atmosphere. Santa Carla had that same aura the way New Orleans felt. For me, it was tangible. I could taste it, feel it, hear it.

It was no wonder why tourists and locals alike flocked to this place. Even if they didn't experience from my point of view. In some ways, they knew even when they weren't aware.

My stomach grumbled as the smell of popcorn and bar-b-que start to permeate the air. I decided it was as good a place to get something to eat. Parking was a hassle, but it was a hassle I'd gladly endure if it meant carnival food.

Street entertainers were in every corner to be seen for spare change the crowd would give and the tourists ate it all up with phones in hand. I meandered through the many food stalls they had to offer. From popcorn, and turkey legs, to corn on the cob and candy floss. The options were endless.

I decided on Mediterranean. Lamb shawarma plate with a side of hummus. The choice has definitely made a dent in my wallet, but I don't splurge often and it's been so long since I've had Mediterranean food.

As I found a shady spot to sit and enjoy my lunch, I started to people watch. My intent was to check out Los Angeles and get a feel the place. But obviously my gut had settled to this stop. I could see myself here. I would never get bored and there were customer service industries that I could try my luck with. As soon as I finished my shawarma, I set out to roam the boardwalk.

A skating rink.

They had a skating rink on a boardwalk and I am elated on the inside. I want jump and squeal at the rare possibility that there is even a skating rink still in existence.

It was not common. Skating rinks were a thing of the past and long since forgotten in most states. I was completely content with having to long boarding on the pavement of Venice beach. But imagine my luck coming across a gem that was _'Lou's Roller Rink'._

The place was packed. Who knew? Something so throwback was still in trend these days.

In the heart the boardwalk, surrounded by game stands, and food stands, and rides, stood Lou's glory with its doors open—welcoming one and all.

I wish I owned a pair of roller skates, but with my lifestyle, there was never a time to fully take advantage of the leisure. I admired the era setting once I made my way inside—much more of a sixties or seventies vibe. The rink itself was light-wooden floors, majority of the area was carpeted—one of which had seen better days—that added to the allure of stepping back into time. There were sitting areas of orange benches scattered around the rink that was separated from a border. The lighting was dim for the most part, but there in the middle of ceiling was a disco ball reflecting off the colorful lights shining to it. I looked around once more, Lou's would not be complete without-

A juke box!

It was in a corner, but it served its purpose. Lou's Roller Rink was like a time capsule and I was captivated. This place for me was heaven, my travel here was feeling more and more permanent. If it wasn't, if I had another impulse, I would take advantage of this place as much as I could.

Like now, now would be a good time to take advantage.

"You gonna stand there and gawk, or you gonna rent a pair of skates?"

I was startled out of my inner monologue, and turned around to the girl behind the counter. Had she always been there?

She looked at me with apathy—like it didn't matter what my answer was, just that i was supposedly wasting her time. She was an exotic little thing, with her long brown hair tied up in a messy bun, her tanned skin and light brown eyes. She wore a white loose fitting tank top and baggy pants that hung on her waist. She had minimal tattoos on her body, but so well put together. It made me wonder how unreal she looked.

"My bad," I said smiling, brushing off her attitude. "You just don't see places like this, it's cool—like the seventies puked all over the place,"

She doesn't react to my joke, leaving me with a blank stare. Awkward.

"That was the point of it, when they opened this place," she gestured around the place with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "My father is a nostalgic type."

_Ahhh…_

"So I take it you're Lou's daughter?"

"Wow, you thought that up all by yourself?" she rolls her eyes. "Clever girl."

I have to commend her for her sarcasm. She must really hate life, or must hate her current situation. Or she must've answered that stupid question one too many times.

Whatever.

"How much for skates?" I ask, looking around at anywhere but her. "I'm new here, so you'll be seeing a lot of me from now on. This seems like a great place to spend my time." I tell her for no reason.

I figured I'd make a friend out the owner's daughter in hopes that maybe I'll get a discount in the near future. It pays to be polite most times—a trick I've learned from my travels. People tend to ease up when I keep up my easy going mannerisms. Eventually they warm up. And making conversation was just a way to get them to open up.

Lou's daughter leans her arms on the counter, leveling me with her eyes. "You don't seem like the normy tourist that frequent here, so I gathered you're not here for vacation."

"Normy?"

"Santa Carla is a tourist town," She says. "Its tourist season everyday—if you haven't been told yet. A lot of people here come and go. The Normy's are the local dumbasses who loiter around here taking too much selfies to make it look like they're living the life."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I can't afford a phone. Like I said, I travel a lot. Phones are useless to me with my kind of lifestyle."

"I figured you'd have family wanting to check up on you from time to time."

I turn my gaze, wanting tell her I've got no one. No one would miss me. No one knows I'm here. Painful truths.

"What brought you here?" She asks me; my reluctance on the subject must've made her curious but the tone of her questioning was slightly off to me.

"Let's just say, I was led here." I vaguely tell her, hoping she'd drop the topic. People don't exactly think me sane when I tell them I'm wandering wherever my gut pulls me to. My impulses have been very intense these days. But she doesn't need to know that.

"What's your size? It's five bucks to rent an hour." She looked at me, trying to gauge my foot size.

I'm thankful for the change of subject and grin. "Seven," I said, slapping a five dollar bill on the counter.

Her hand came on top of mine before i could move it. Her eyes zoned in on me and it went blank. It started to freak me out of bit. Before I could retort, or lash out about personal space, she backed away carefully with her hands surrendered in the air and her dull gaze returning to its natural spark.

"Damn it," she hisses under breath.

What the hell?

She grabs my skates, and props it on the counter making me cringe from the sound of the impact. I look at her like she's off her meds—her mood swings were giving me whiplash.

It seemed like she wanted to say something to me, call it a gut feeling; something worth hearing. But instead she just shakes her head.

"Enjoy your time here Juni." She finally says, walking away giving me a peculiar look. I'm not entirely sure what all that was about, but her pensive expression had me a bit anxious.

Actually, come to think of it... I don't remember telling her my name.

* * *

**I do not own The Lost Boys.**


End file.
